


The Virgin Queen

by unfolded73



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: Prompt: "First of all, it is necessary to decide what one’s personal idea of position is..." (All prompts are fromEtiquette in Society, in Business, in Politics and at Homeby Emily Post.)
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Elizabeth I of England
Kudos: 5





	The Virgin Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published as part of a prompt game by the_tenzo on livejournal, March 25, 2010.
> 
> Notes today: Making one more push to archive all the stray fics that I never posted here because I saw my word count was approaching 800,000, and it was making me crazy. 
> 
> **Also please note that this was written BEFORE the 50th anniversary special aired, thank you very much. Not consistent with that canon.**

She sat and tried to listen to her ministers as they took it in turn to preach to her about the state of her kingdom. She knew what they were going to say before they said it, oft times, and it was only the amusement of watching them try to curry her favour or jockey for political position that held her attention.

Today, though, Elizabeth didn't hear a word.

She shifted slightly in her seat, enjoying the friction of her undergarments against her flesh. She'd had her share of impure thoughts about men before, but she'd never allowed herself to be consumed by them, _certainly_ never ruled by them. England was her husband, and she had no need of another. Husbands, from what she'd seen, led to loss of agency, childbirth, and death.

And yet ... _and yet._ There was the Doctor.

He wasn't like any other man she'd met in her life. He cared nothing for the machinations of court, and yet he looked at her like he couldn't imagine a creature more enchanting. When he said she was brilliant, or witty, or intelligent, she never heard the unstated "... for a woman" that clung to other men's lips when they flattered her. She wondered sometimes if he were a faerie; it was the only explanation she could think of for the magic he seemed to possess. For the way he could conceal their liaisons so that even her ladies-in-waiting had no idea he had been near her bedchamber. For the fact that he swore he could not get her with child, and for the fact that she believed him.

He'd taught her more than she could have imagined, lessons with his mouth and his hands and his cock. She felt like she'd awakened in a new body, because the body that experienced such heights of ecstasy could not possibly be the one she'd been walking around in all this time.

"Marry me," he'd groaned one night, his head between her parted thighs.

"You don't have the position to marry the Queen of England," she whispered, staring up at the rich drapes over her bed.

"Why, Bess, are you saying you aren't happy with my ..." – a pause and he did something with his tongue that made her see stars – "position?"

She smiled at the pun, even as he continued to drive her closer to that infinite sweetness of release.

Later, she'd watched him in contemplation. She wondered if he believed he hid his deep loneliness from her with his rapid talk and his wandering hands. To Elizabeth, who knew loneliness so intimately, his ache was as plain as the nose on his face.

"What troubles you so?" she finally asked.

He looked at her and smiled a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "I'm late for an appointment."

She raised an eyebrow. "At this hour of the night?"

"At any hour. Every hour."

"You always speak in such riddles."

He leaned over to kiss her, and she let him believe the conversation was forgotten. This couldn't last; she knew it couldn't, and yet with every touch she felt herself hurtling closer and closer to a broken heart. For tonight, she closed her eyes and, for once in her life, did not think of England.


End file.
